In Retrospect
by Isildur's Heiress
Summary: There were times John forgot that Sam was the younger of the two. Hell, there were times John forgot that Sam was his SON, not his past self, torturing him for mistakes made, and lessons learned the hard way. John Winchester POV, slightly OoC, Based on the events of S1, E16


In Retrospect,

A Supernatural Fanfiction

Isildur's Heiress

In Retrospect

There were times where John forgot that Sam was the younger of the two.

Hell, there were times that John forgot that Sam was his _son_, not his past self, torturing him for mistakes made and lessons learned the hard way. Sam was John, in a lot of ways; stubborn, determined, sure in his own knowledge that the ends justified the means, whatever they were. For John the ends were the death – preferably the _obliteration_ – of the demon that had taken his happy life, and turned it into a revenge-fueled hellhole, consumed by hatred, and morphed by a twisted purpose. John knew that there were things that he could have done better, changes he could have made to ensure his boys had some sort of stability. But he didn't.

You see, even before John's beautiful Mary burned on the ceiling, and even before his grief could recognize itself as something other than shock and adrenaline, John was angry.

He was angry at his life, how many _wrongs_ he had suffered already at the hands of the world.

What God could exist that hated him so much?

First his mother. Then his father. A myriad of little miseries along the road from there to Mary. Now the only TRUE source of happiness in his life, the woman who had given him two beautiful boys, was taken too?

Faith? What _faith_ was there to have in a world that just. Kept. Fucking. Him. Over?

So John took his boys and left. Fuck stability. Fuck belonging. Fuck emotional connections to _anything_. But most importantly fuck _love._

John Winchester was tired of loving, only to lose whatever it was that he loved.

So, while he did show some affection, and he took pride in his sons' achievements, he never allowed himself to _love _his boys. It hurt like hell, no denying, but this was better than the alternative.

Dean, only four years old when his mother died, was taking care of his brother, and himself, by his fifth birthday. John was proud that his son had survived, but instead of the ease that comes with familiarity, life would only grow harder. John drilled protectiveness into his oldest son, "Take care of Sammy, Dean,"

" Don't let him get hurt."

"He's _your_ responsibility, Dean, I can't be here all the time."

" Keep an eye on Sammy, son,"

"Yes, sir," was always Dean's reply.

John had never thought about it, but Dean was the perfect soldier by age seven.

Sammy was kept out of all but the most basic of training until he was almost ten. John had always worried that he had let his youngest go too long, but on his first salt-and-burn( age eleven) Sammy performed admirably, earning praise from his father and brother.

John still caught himself wondering what, exactly, he could have done better.

**You could have tried to love them, **screamed the voice of Mary in his head.

_**But, Mary, I lose everything I love. **_

**You still could have tried.**

_**I know. I'm sorry. I-I was scared. I wasn't about to lose my boys.**_

**You made them soldiers instead. Did that help you? Really?**

_**Mare-**_

**No, John. It didn't. Because you made Dean the perfect soldier you lost him, and because you couldn't make another out of Sam, you lost him too.**

It wasn't Mary's voice anymore, it was his own.

But that was then, and this was now. Now he stood in another motel room, looking at his boys. John saw his perfect soldier standing behind his younger brother, trepidation clear in his eyes. Sammy stood too, rigid, tense and nervous. Sadness clutched at John. How had he made these two unafraid of anything and anyone, but him?

**Fix it, **Mary's voice whispered in his head again.

_**Don't know how, Mare.**_

**Then figure it out.**

_**Alright, Mary, for you.**_

**No, John Winchester. Not for me. For _them._**


End file.
